“Well.” Mrs. O’Connor stroked Lydia’s hair. “She’ll likely be sleeping in a moment, now that Doc’s done digging around and she has you keeping her warm and safe.”
“Rest’ll do her good,” Patrick said.
“Rest’d do her worn-thin ma good as well.” Though Mrs. O’Connor had lowered her voice, Eliza heard. Far from offended, she agreed.
As his ma made her way to the nearby table and snatched up a bowl of scones to take back out to the party, Patrick got to his feet, taking care not to jostle Lydia. Mrs. O’Connor stepped out once more. Patrick carried Lydia over to Eliza.
She reached for the girl, intending to make the exchange.
Patrick shook his head. “I’ll keep holding her. I meant only to ask if you’d like to lie down. Lydia’ll do grandly with me while you rest.”
It was a kindhearted offer but one she couldn’t accept. “I should take her home. She’ll rest better if she’s able to sleep in her own bed.”
“Let me walk back with you,” he said. “She can rest on m’shoulder as we go. Then the both of you can go to sleep straight off once you’re home.”
“You’d do that? Even though I tossed you out last time I saw you?”
He colored up a little. “I deserved it. And so there’s no misunderstanding between us, I’m not offering to walk with you because I’m expecting you to have forgiven me, or to forgive me now. I just want Lydia to be able to heal, and I want you to be able to rest.”
The sincerity of his tone and compassion in his words warmed her. “I’d be grateful to you if you’d walk us home.”
As they wove through the partygoers, Patrick received a lot of compliments on his fiddle playing. He accepted them with obvious embarrassment.
Once they were free of the gathering, Eliza tossed in her own observation. “You play the fiddle very well. I hope you don’t regret sharing your music with everyone. You said it was very personal.”
“I’m learning to be more vulnerable,” he said. “And more authentic.”
“Because of what I said?” She wasn’t sure what she wanted the answer to be.
“Because you were right. I’ve been hiding a long time. I’m ready to step into the light.”
She was glad to hear it, yet she wasn’t fully reassured. “I want to believe that, to believeyou, but . . .”
“I don’t for a moment expect you to have faith in me after only one evening’s evidence.”
“Does this mean you’re going to provide me with more proof?” she asked.
“That is precisely what this means.” He adjusted Lydia in his arm, so her head lay on his shoulder. She was limp enough to be asleep. “I plan to tell you about my time in the army, if you ask. I’ll tell you the good and the bad of our voyage from Ireland. I’ll tell you how many lasses I’ve kissed.”
“That last won’t be necessary.”
She adored the sound of his laugh.
“And I vow I’ll be honest with you about the drinking. I should’ve been before.”
“Have you gone a full fortnight without a drink before now?” she asked.
“Not in years.”
Even in the dim light of fast-approaching night, she could see pride in his expression. “Every time I said I was thirsty, Ian plied me with tea.”
“I like tea,” she said. “I might even have you over for tea now and then.”
“I would like that.”
They walked on a bit, an easy silence settling between them, which he broke after a while. “Dr. Jones said you have a new location for the inn?”
“Aproposedlocation. I thought perhaps the stage company would be in favor of a spot as far north of town as we proposed south of town.”